The End Is Nigh
by sweetysmart0505
Summary: E/O CHALLENGE, Word: Twitch and more... Castiel shows Dean the future of America, and it's an eye-opener. My take on how I thought 5.04, The End, would go.


_Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their respective owners, Eric Kripke, the CW, WB._

**A/N**: So, this is a oneshot with 12 challenge words in it, to make up for all the ones I missed! Also, this story is dedicated to birthday-ers during those 12 weeks: **Nana56**, **Miyo86**, **Onyx** **Moonbeam**, **Sammygirl1963**, **Insecret**, and **Helen** **Bache**. I hope I didn't forget anyone! Happy birthday! And sorry there's no Sam here.

Challenge Words: _Glimmer, Ankle, Alarm, Spent, Ditch, Pressure, Control, Relax, Fervor, Wall, Scratch, Twitch_

Seriously, this is my take on how I _THOUGHT _5.04 - The End was going to go. I was completely wrong. Yet, I still would like your take on my version!

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**The End is Nigh**

The air around him **glimmers**, like little crystals in the morning sun. For a moment, it's blinding. Then the moment is over, and Dean chances a look around.

Everything is barren, an absolute wasteland. Trees, long withered and dead, are far and few between; Dean spots a specific one far in the distance, thin and gray. The ground is dry, cracks running to and fro. Taking a single step forward, Dean notices the plume of dust that shoots out from under his feet. Concrete sidewalks that once ran along the street have long turned to fine powder. Buildings are levelled to the ground, juts of brick are all that remain of some structures. The air itself is suffocating, like all that had died still lingers around him, a vast amount of **pressure** on his whole body.

Wisps of wind catch dirt, sand, and powered concrete, creating miniature dune fields, like a desert. Brown and gray, the only colours seen for miles. No more green. No more life.

Dean struggles to **relax** as he searches his surroundings. He almost feels like he's stepped into the end of a movie, where the world has been laid to waste. It is almost surprising to see the remains of what may have been automobiles or child's toys made of plastic. It's those traces of human life that seem unearthly to Dean's eyes.

An **alarm** goes off in the back of Dean's mind. He traces his eyes over the horizon and notices that those gray, lifeless trees almost seem to move. He blinks. The tree, far in the distance that he'd first spotted, looks closer. It really does. But Dean hasn't moved. He blinks again. It is definitely closer this time. With infrequent gasps of breath, Dean struggles to **control **his breathing as his heart rate speeds up.

The tree-creature slides forward. Dean distinguishes another one flanking it. He takes a step back. He knows that instinct inside of him... it means danger, warning, get out of there! The soft dust plumes and settles.

A grunt from behind catches Dean unaware. Body jerking, Dean whirls around. There, so close, is a short tree creature! But it isn't a tree at all. It's a child. A young girl, no more than seven or eight. Dean exclaims sharply. This girl, she looks dead, with pale, white eyes and ashen skin. She raises a steady arm. So unlike any child Dean had ever seen. He shuffles back, away from this grotesque creature... she couldn't possibly be real, could she?

Dust clouds around Dean as the wind captures it. His eyes water and his lungs tickle. A single wheeze of breath has Dean coughing. As he hacks, attempting to dislodge the dust from his lungs, Dean's eyes catch sight of the first two tree-like creatures he'd noticed first. They're no more than 20 feet from him! A man and a woman. No spark in their eyes as they shuffle their stiff legs forward.

Dean doesn't wait one more second. Still sputtering, he turns and runs, quickly dodging the arms of the little girl. Earth rises behind him, like a cartoon character on a dirt road. Dean definitely feels like a cartoon right now. This can't be happening. Where the hell was he? Why was he here? Last thing he remembered... he was talking to Cas. What the hell had that angel done to him?

The wind whips his cheeks. He attempts to focus ahead of him, but the monotonous colouring makes everything indiscernible. Besides, the soil on the wind makes it rather hard to see anyway.

Suddenly, Dean's foot snags on one of the rare heaps of a remaining building. He tumbles, his **ankle **twisting as he goes down. On hands and knees, Dean glances up. Another person is ahead of him, shuffling just as ungracefully as the others. This one's mouth is slightly agape, like he's tired, and maybe thirsty.

Angling his body to the left, Dean leaps to his feet, jumps the other **wall** of this building, and dashes away. His lungs burn. His ankle twinges. And though he keeps running, his body feels **spent**. Dean then slams an arm over his eyes as a particularly large surge of wind hits him, throwing sizable bits of soil at his face. Now he can't see at all. And Dean stumbles as his foot lands on nothing but air beneath him. He falls, his hands shooting out to protect his body. He does a somersault down a small hill.

When he looks back up, Dean realizes he's fallen into a **ditch**, probably on the edge of a road. This fissure is nice and deep. The dust-filled wind sweeps over him, so he's moderately sheltered. It seems like a decent hiding place as well.

He inhales deeply; his breaths are jagged, his mouth is extremely dry, his tongue feels like sandpaper. Limbs quivering from the excitement, Dean slides his back down one side of the embankment. Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, Dean groans heavily. This is insane! He has no idea where he is! He has no idea what's going on! And he wants to go home!

Mustering as much air into his abused lungs as he could managed, Dean bellows, "CAS!" He doesn't have to wait long after.

"Dean."

The angel stands beside Dean in the ditch, the walls rise to chest height.

"Wha' the hell?"

Castiel cocks his head to one side as he stares down at Dean. With one sweep of his gaze, Castiel takes in his surroundings. The wasteland that is America. He bends down to Dean's level, his head leaving the wind overhead.

"Do you not understand?"

"Wha' the hell am I s'pposed to understand?" Dean gasps as his throat burns.

"This is the future."

Dean squints, his brow creasing in thought. "The future. The future of the US?"

"Parts of it, yes. Lucifer's endgame. He sets forth a deadly virus to bring about the end of humanity. Did you see the residents of this town?"

Rubbing his eyes with his fists, Dean remembers, very clearly, the imagine of that little girl. So lifeless, stiff like death. "They were like... like zombies."

"Yes."

"Zombies? So... this is Night of the Living Dead?"

Castiel cocks his head again.

"The movie? Like Dawn of the Dead? Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things? Come on! Chopper Chicks in Zombietown?" Dean huffs at Cas' obvious confusion. "They're animated dead," he clarifies.

"Yes."

Dean is solemn for a moment. So this is the fate of the world, if it isn't stopped. This is what would happen to everyone. Life would die. And some of it would revive. Lucifer sure had some bitch moves up his sleeve.

"When?"

"Soon."

Well, that sucks. The end of the world, soon. Zombies would rise, soon. Great friggin' answer.

Dean flicks his gaze to Cas' hands as they progress forward and come to a stop just over Dean's own hands. As Dean turns his palms skyward, he notices scrapes and **scratches **with flecks of sand embedded within the heel of his palms probably from when he fell. Soon, there's no trace of them as they heal completely. Even his ankle stops throbbing. At least Cas has enough mojo left for the little things.

"Thanks."

Castiel nods once.

"So-" Dean coughs, spitting out little grains of silt. He couldn't heal that? Swallowing dryly, he asks, "Can we stop this virus?"

"Nothing is absolute."

"You couldn't have just told me? You had to show me?"

"I had to show you. Show you what you face. Show you what Lucifer is capable of. This is what he'll do if he's not stopped." Castiel sweeps his arm through the air. Dean gazes at his surroundings, letting his eyes travel down this crevice. Remembering what was outside of his hole, Dean **twitches**. This can't happen to the future! It just can't!

"All right then! Give me the Necronomicon and let's go home!"

Cas angles his head again.

"Army of Darkness?" Dean replies to Cas' bewildered look. "You _really_ need to get out more."

Castiel blinks once, but his eyes hold a bit of wonder, looking more human than he has in a long while. But the moment passes and the angel stands up, offering his hand to Dean. Dean releases another wheezy cough before reaching up to willingly grasp Cas' hand. Rising from his position on the ground, Dean again witnesses those same crystals twinkle in his sight before his feet land on softer ground.

Blinking his eyes, Dean realizes he's in the same ditch, with one major difference: this one is alive. Grass shoots up through the wet ground, and the sweet smell of moist soil greets him. And over the edge of his ditch, Dean regards the dirt road in front of him and, across the road, a line of houses, some old, some new. In one, a man, his mouth slightly ajar like he was tired and thirsty, mows his bright, green lawn with a beer awaiting him on the porch. In another, a man and a woman talk animatedly. Clearly friends, but with signs that they could be something more. Finally, in the one straight ahead of Dean, a child plays with a brand-new soccer ball. Her laughter reaches Dean's ears. And as her face turns, Dean looks into her eyes. They were so full of life! Full of **fervor**! So unlike those same eyes he had seen staring at him. Those pale, white eyes and that ashen skin. This couldn't be that same girl!

This scene of serenity around him... this could all be lost? This, destroyed? This could all become Dust in the Wind?

No! Nuh uh! Not on Dean's watch. The Devil was going down.

And Castiel whispers in the ear of the righteous man, "These words are faithful and true; the Lord, sent his angel to show his servants the things that must soon take place. It is the last hour; and as you have heard that Antichrist is coming."

**The End**

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**A/N**: Though I never believed Castiel would be showing Dean all of this, this brief glimpse of the future was a pleasure to write, even if I was wrong. Do you think Dean would have been inspired?

What Castiel says at the end: from 1 John 2:18 (simplified) and Revelations 22:6.


End file.
